


10,007

by ponpiri



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 21:56:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19159765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponpiri/pseuds/ponpiri
Summary: As more citizens of Octo Valley begin to disappear, its leader becomes desperate for an answer. With a bickering government and seemingly no resolve, DJ Octavio decides to take things into his own hands.





	10,007

**Author's Note:**

> An interpretation of Octavio if he was given more character than just Generic Bad Guy. Heavily based on Splatoon 1 lore where the Octarians were (still are?) struggling with an energy shortage and stole the Great Zapfish out of desperation. Octavio does not brainwash his citizens. Inspired by my disappointment in the Octo Expansion writing.

He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t listening at all. As unbecoming and immature it was of him, the shogunate of Takotsubo, he just couldn’t ground his mind to reality. His arms crossed as he sat there, watching the rest of his government bicker and fight amongst themselves. The same words were thrown back every single time. One would argue to move the remaining octarians to safety and wait it out while the other would counter with sending more troops to solve the problem at its core (wherever that may be) despite the dwindling amount of soldiers they had left. No one could agree whether it would be best to keep and study a sanitized soldier in hopes of finding a cure, or if capturing a part of the hivemind would lead them to their eventual destruction. Their only saving grace at the moment was the fact the world of the kettles was vast and that their sources were spread out. If they truly were a hivemind, even leading one to the most crucial points of Octarian society could lead to the collapse of it as they knew it. Another threat, accompanying the inklings that towered the heavens above.

Octavio couldn’t be concerned with the squabble at hand. He should have been, but those dead, empty faces haunted him. Seared themselves into his memory. How many were siblings, lovers, parents, children to someone in their society? How many were untimely ripped apart in their journey to find a better life to the surface? What sick people would take advantage of those wanting to find happiness and convert them forcibly into that? Why, for all their advanced technology, could they not find any leads and only prepare for random acts of sanitized violence? Too many questions without answers to satisfy them. They should be doing something, Octavio thought, rather than being here arguing in the comfort of the capital. They should be doing something themselves.

A fist rose up and slammed itself against the table to call the attention of his court. Tentacles and Octolings alike jumped and the room fell quiet as their eyes fell upon their leader, still quiet and refusing to make eye contact. The silence droned on and on, never ending for all in the room. Nothing could pierce the emptiness that had fallen upon the room. Octavio Takowasa was etching his own path. His tired eyes and grizzled face normally tried to combat the years that fell upon him but now, as he was drifting off seemingly aimlessly did he actually appear his age. For those in the room beside him had only been around for decades. General Takowasa has seen a century. 

“I’ll go find out what’s happening myself,” He stated plainly, shooting a look at the closest Octarian next to him. It was devoid of everything but fierce determination. He began to rise to his feet as he let the words dawn on his court. Very quickly, they stood up to him.

“General Takowasa, you can’t go yourself. It’s dangerous. We need you here.” The octarian that attempted to reason with the old octopus was cut off with a glare.

“For what? To babysit a bunch of hatchlings who can’t decide on anything? Yeah, no thanks.” He leaned and whispered at the ear of his right, his protege, who left swiftly by his word. The helmet that rested upon the table in front of him was lifted and placed back on his head, adjusted accordingly and tight. The rest of the room was too stunned to say anything. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but my people have been dyin’ and the longer we stay here the longer those monsters get away with taking us.”

“I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t stop thinking about their faces. Thousands of them. It’s just like the Great Turf War, except this time I’m old enough to not make any stupid mistakes. I can finally do something right, and ya’ll are just— ” His words faltered, fighting back what little emotion remained in his empty heart. “Ya’ll are just letting this happen. I’ve got to fix this, I am going to fix this.” 

He raised his arms as two new octolings made their way in to help him properly put on his armor. The rest of Cephalon HQ could only stare in shameful silence, gazing down at the floor. They had no words to be said, other than pleas they knew Octavio would never want to hear. They felt like the children their leader saw them as, receiving rightful scolding for their selfish bickers. His eyes properly adjusted the armor he hadn’t worn in a hundred years. In some way, he was like a ghost that had come back to haunt them all. Many had seen pictures of his time serving the Great Turf War. That man was younger, brighter, and innocent then. He only looked broken now, barely hanging on by the tiniest of thread.

“You are not going to send any other troops, and you are going to focus on relocating the rest to safety,” He stated firmly as to leave no room for argument “And you are going to let me handle this alone.”

His audience nodded slowly.

“I don’t care if you think I’m going to die. I’ve cheated death long enough, and ya’ll have Nori to take over for me.” He gestured to one of the pair of octolings that finished suiting up their leader. “If my death means the beast who tormented us is killed, then so be it.”

The tentacles draped upon Octavio’s shoulders swayed and curled, and with one deep breath, he began to march towards the exit. A soldier he once was, a soldier he would be. If he’d have to fight this new war solo, he would. If it meant the Octarians of Takotsubo could remain safe he would be willing to put his life on the line for it, for Tartar is the definition of a monster, the worst of them. He would not make a mistake. He would not let him get away with his injustice. He would not rest until the perpetrators' blood was on his hands, never to be heard from again. 

"I'm coming for the bastard who thought he could get away with destroying General Takowasa's people."


End file.
